


Mycroft Holmes vs Greg Lestrade

by ohdrey89



Series: Deductive Deviations [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Autopsies, BAMF Lestrade, Creepy Moriarty, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fighting over Molly, Gun Violence, Guns, Insanity, Irene Misbehaving, Minor Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, Modern Era, Moriarty is Alive, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft To The Rescue, Original Character(s), POV Molly Hooper, Pregnant Mary, Protective Lestrade, Protective Mycroft, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Silver Fox Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 21:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2666480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohdrey89/pseuds/ohdrey89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper was a singular person. Quiet and mousy outside, but inside she had spirit and was stronger than anyone knows her to be. She was so strong that she was able to sneak under Moriarty's radar and helped Sherlock live, saving the lives of John Watson, Mrs. Hudson, and Greg Lestrade in the process. The mousy pathologist made a fool out of the world's only Consulting Criminal.</p>
<p>Now Moriarty is back and has decided she has to pay. Will she survive? And what will she do when two men, Greg and Mycroft, vow to keep her safe? Who will she choose?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mycroft Holmes vs Greg Lestrade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Heeellooooo!!! My dear readers, I return before completing the next chapter in Second Chances to bring you this!! A one shot, and a present from one of my readers: cornishrexmomma!! 
> 
> I guess this is a Thanksgiving/Early Christmas present? She has agreed to let me post it and is pleased with the results!!! I hope you are too. I thank her and all of you my dear readers for your continued constancy. It means so much to me to know you all like what I am writing and I will work really hard to get those other gifts up as well. And I hope you enjoy this little foray of mine into the modern Sherlock away from my period drama leanings. Though not all of the one shots will take place in the current world, the periods will skip around as my mind, or your prompts take me. 
> 
> Oh! I almost forgot to mention, the middle end climax part of this story gets a little dicey in way of violence and triggers and such. You've been forewarned. 
> 
> There's also another story that I wrote in a night that just came to me I will be posting as well tonight. These will all be part of this one shot series. Dirty, naughty, dark, angsty, what have you... It will all be in here. We'll call it little deductions that I have made about the characters and this modern world they live in. It just works mate, I don't know what it is about this series, but it just works. 
> 
> But for now, enjoy!!!
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

\---

_Bart's Morgue, Present Day_

\---

All her life, Molly Hooper was never the focus of anyone’s ardent admiration. There was that one night at college during a drunken study session, where not much studying was done at all and she couldn‘t even remember who she slept with but woke up under a pile of fellow naked undergrads… Ah well. After college her personal life became a string of “three dates, then one night of disappointing sex, ending in thanks, I’ll call you. And they never do.” moments that were nothing but endless disappointments. And there was also that token night of passion with Jim… Jim didn’t even care, he said as much the next day when she asked if he wanted to take a “coffee break,” and then when he unmasked himself as Moriarty and turned his eye on Sherlock, he didn’t even consider her one of Sherlock’s friends worthy enough to target. Maybe that was his intention all along, to take care of her in a way that would bother Sherlock, subtly, to test him. Or maybe she just wasn’t that important to Sherlock in Moriarty’s estimation and like Sherlock said, that was his biggest mistake. If the man only knew how little Sherlock operates physically… in that way. She’d given up on that lost cause long ago. But she doesn’t like to think about Moriarty. At all. Or Sherlock for that matter. Thinking of Sherlock now just made her feel foolish. In fact, thinking of Moriarty now makes her feel as though she were dumped in cold water. That she possibly could be intimate in anyway with that monster, her humiliation was complete. Not even on lonely nights when she can’t sleep would she think of Moriarty with any favor. She now wished she had Sherlock’s ability of deleting things from her own mental hard drive. Memories like that aren’t one’s to cherish, even if it was one of the few instances of satisfying sexual encounters that she’s had over the years that she can count on one hand. Sigh… Yes. She’d rather not think about any of it at all.

Rather, it was better to consider the cause of death of the poor sod who’s cadaver on which she was currently doing an autopsy. The cause of death appeared to be natural, but the question was: what was the cause? Appearances can always deceive even the most trained eyes, and she was struggling to find an answer. It continued to allude her and since it continued that meant it was most likely murder, of which there appeared to be no evidence. It was an intriguing case, though when she tried to get the attention of Sherlock, he simply hung up on her.

There were more important things for Sherlock to consider now that the video of Moriarty had appeared. After it did, Molly had been frantic, until Detective Inspector Lestrade appeared at the morgue to check up on her. Er… Greg. Shite. She kept on having to remind herself. He insisted. She even remembered fondly the way he looked at her while he said in his rumble of a voice, “Call me Greg.” Like it was imperative that he hear her say his name. But really it was only fair. He called her Molls. He moved quickly from Molly to just Molls. Molly felt a blush come to her cheeks. Greg. Even if he was divorced once, that was hardly a reason to discount him in her opinion. He still was very attractive, a silver fox as she teased him once. Oh yes. She definitely thought of him once or twice, dreamt of him too. Thinking of that made her blush more. Even if he looked at her, she didn’t believe herself as attractive enough to consider anything on his end to be more than just a passing glance. They had coffees, pub nights. It was nice, easy. But she never considered his flirtations as anything more than just his way, his nature. Hazy looks he gave her over his pint of beer were just the light of the pub, drunken warmness. That was all. She refused to get her hopes up. Even if the looks he gave her did excite in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

After Sherlock returned, and Molly explained her role in it, Lestrade had been impressed. Hurt at first glance, not as much as John, who didn’t talk to her until Mary encouraged him to, who didn’t answer any of her apology phone calls. After she explained what she had done, what Sherlock had begged her to do, Lestrade’s hurt eased into something else, looking to her as she stared into her hot chocolate. Once she dared look up at him, she saw a very different look in Greg’s eyes. The way he looked at her changed from just the heated looks in passing she started getting after the Christmas Party, when he realized there were tits and a tiny waist hiding behind her comfy jumpers. Like he was seeing her for the first time, not just as her mousy self but what spirit was truly lying underneath it all. She didn’t dare hope that maybe his opinion of her changed so drastically, enough to like her, love her even.

The man oozed self-assured determination, he was also friendly and easy going. She was jealous of his easy ways, but not for long when he turned those friendly, warm, bright brown eyes in her direction. She relaxed immediately whenever he was around, most especially when Moriarty appeared to be back. He immediately gave her a hug as she tried to fight her desperate emotions. He assured her that not all of her hard work was for naught. Sherlock was alive, and here to defeat Moriarty again and now he wouldn‘t dare do it alone, without all of their help. Lestrade, John, Mrs. Hudson they were all alive thanks to her. He scolded John for not forgiving her for doing just what Sherlock asked, which was the only thing to do in such a situation. John should have shown gratitude but he only gave her his anger. Lestrade wasn’t on speaking terms with John for that very reason, and only spoke curtly to John on cases. But he wouldn’t tell Molly that he did that, only that John should be grateful. They owed her everything and she never once asked for anything in return. What she did, he had emphatically declared to her, wasn’t nothing. He got her out of her head and away from her self-deprecation. He pulled her out of her shell. She could see the person she could be with him. They had no idea where Moriarty had been, so Lestrade sat in a corner watching Molly work, talking to her to stay alert. Then his phone rang, he said some words to someone over the phone, somehow in reference to herself, and then Lestrade told her that she had protection. He asked if she needed anything like he was looking for a reason to stay just a little longer but she said no and he needed to get back to work. In a way very unlike Greg, he breezed out of the room, practically without saying goodbye. It was strange, but what was stranger was his face, full of angry thunder, like someone was trying to take something away from him. The question was: what?

Focus Molly! There was no use in thinking of Moriarty or Lestrade at a time like this. She had gotten lost in her thoughts again. Time was of the essence if the cause of death wasn’t natural. She put her mind to the task examining the body under her careful observations. She drew a few blood samples, setting them up for analysis in the mass spectrometer, and was about to open his mouth for dental records of his teeth when the door to the morgue hissed open. She turned to greet whoever was coming into the room, but was forced into a stutter when the imposing man revealed himself.

“M-Mr. Holmes. T-To what do I owe the pleasure?” She had long since grown out of her stuttering around Sherlock, his brother was an entirely different matter.

“Please Miss. Hooper. Call me Mycroft.” Molly was stunned into silence when Mycroft leaned down over her hand to kiss it. What was this, the turn of the last century? She pulled her hand out of his grasp and turned back to her task at hand, putting on fresh gloves. She squared her shoulders, not trying to be intimidated by Mycroft’s presence as she worked.

“It’s Doctor Hooper, Mycroft. I am a doctor. And since I am a doctor, I’m examining this body. I have yet to determine the cause of death. It’s very strange since the poor man has all the appearance of someone who has died of natural causes.” She didn’t know why she had been so short with the man, nor did she know why she was explaining what she was doing either. For someone with a doctorate, she didn’t know a lot of things at the moment.

“Ah, yes. Well Dr. Hooper. I was just here to check up on you after the whole, Moriarty snafu.” Mycroft announced looking over to her from the other side of the body. “Most inconvenient timing.“ She met his eyes with an arched brow, unbelieving that was his intention, even though from all appearances, the man was completely sincere.

“Um- well. Greg was already here to do the same when it happened. I know you had to look out for Sherlock and John. But I’m fine, really.” She had been getting better acquainted with the man after helping with Sherlock’s fake death, but she hardly thought that would make her be deserving of his attention now. At the mention of Lestrade her cheeks bloomed with a pretty blush that Mycroft admired but couldn’t help but purse his lips at mention of the Yarder. The man was a nuisance and getting in the way of what Mycroft wanted. If only he hadn’t been busy with Parliament - assuring them that in the face of the threat, Sherlock was their best weapon at defeating the madman again - he, himself, would have had time to come and reassure Molly as to her safety. He had excused the guard dog from his post and watched until he left Molly to her work, and watched her for some time after until Anthea called him away with a puzzled expression. Huh, he hadn’t known at the time how long he had been staring at the TV screens. That had been quite the surprise. He came today to find out what was this hold the woman had on him.

“Yes of course, I’m sure the Detective Inspector was very helpful. Always the dependable man, especially if you’re looking for a drinking partner.” Molly looked to the man queerly, wondering why he of all people would have a problem with Greg.

“Yes he’s very dependable, he was here.” Molly said pointedly again to Mycroft, who looked to Molly in surprise. Molly tried not to feel guilty for being short with the man but she was not going to be bullied by another member of the Holmes family. That just wasn’t going to happen any more. She continued to press on with her work, despite Mycroft’s hovering.

Molly looked back down to the body in front of them, lifting the cadaver’s lips with a scalpel and immediately jumped backwards. Mycroft watched her face turn ashen. He looked to the body but didn’t see what she had obviously seen. The scalpel she had been using fell from her hand and to the floor with a metallic clink. Mycroft’s body immediately became rigid.

“What is it, Molly? Show me.” She quickly recovered and pulled the man’s lips back revealing the message ‘did you miss me?” written on the victim’s gums in black ink, no tattooed on, post mortem, if Molly could guess from just looking at it. “Could you open up his mouth for me, Dr. Hooper?” Mycroft encouraged her into action by keeping the requests professional and authoritative, in that way Mycroft often did during a sudden crisis. Molly did as she was told and upon doing so pulled out a dead mouse from the man’s mouth. She gasped in fright. The threat was clear, Moriarty was going to take down Sherlock’s defenses, one loyal person at a time and he was going to start with Molly. He wasn’t going to let the little mouse pass through his defenses again. Moriarty wasn’t just angry and alive, he was vengeful and out for blood. “Continue processing the body Molly, I have to make some calls in regards as to your protection.” Mycroft said smoothly, leaving the room with umbrella thumping along beside him. Molly’s hands shook, as she dropped the dead mouse on a spare sterile tray beside her and continued processing the man. She took pictures of the man’s gums and retrieved his dental records. She gathered fingerprints and scanned them into the computer, running them against all their known databases, doing the same for his teeth. She had finished running both the records and the blood samples, allowing the computers to process them on their own, all was done on auto-pilot while all of her attention was used in observing Mycroft from the hallway, pacing back and forth while talking to whoever was on the other side of his phone call.

She continued with the process of doing the autopsy and was still confounded by his cause of death. So the answer must lie within his blood, under every other possible cause physically he showed no signs of what Molly would be looking for, he looked like a perfectly healthy man. She hoped his blood would tell a different story. How did this poor man die?

\---

Molly was standing in front of the mass spectrometer waiting for the results of blood tests to come back when the doors breezed open again. Mycroft stepped through with Sherlock and John in his wake. Sherlock immediately went to Molly and grabbed both her hands.

“I’m sorry.” Sherlock said not meeting Molly’s eye. She wondered what he was apologizing for, for putting her in danger, for asking that she put herself in danger, for every comment he ever said in reference to the size of her person or if he was just apologizing because his guilt told him to do so. Molly wasn’t sure for what he was apologizing. but he didn’t need to, for any of it. John lifted an eyebrow in Sherlock’s direction, completely puzzled. Sherlock never apologizes.

“You don’t have to apologize.” She assured the detective.

“Yes but still I think its necessary. Moriarty’s sights are set on you.” Sherlock’s face betrayed the sick feeling he had in the pit of his stomach. If anything happened to her… to anyone because of the game he and Moriarty were about to play again. He met John’s eye, he couldn’t jump again. He just couldn’t, John wouldn’t survive it.

“Not your fault.” Molly smiled shaking her head, trying to exude more confidence than she felt. She knew there had been a possibility of this happening when she agreed to help Sherlock, now it was too late for apologies. She was in too deep and this was the price to pay for her involvement, she’d do it willingly again, if it meant Sherlock got to stay in the land of the living.

“Technically, I think in this case it is, for once. I asked you to help me. ” The side of Sherlock’s mouth lifted, he was often blamed for a lot of things. For once, it wasn’t due to a ridiculous social convention that he didn’t know he broke.

“No it really isn’t.” Molly corrected Sherlock more firmly. Right now pointing blame upon himself wouldn’t help his cause.

“I don’t believe the blame really matters in this case, brother mine. We have to focus on destroying Moriarty once and for all and worry over the details later.” Mycroft announced looking down at his phone.

“It does Mycroft. If something happens to Molly…” Sherlock growled in Mycroft’s direction. Molly gave his hands a reassuring squeeze before letting them go, going back to the computer that still was processing results. She was just Molly, she really didn’t matter, not even in this situation. Processing lab results was a very easy way to dismiss herself from the conversation.

“Nothing’s going to happen to Molly.” John smiled confidently in Molly’s direction. Molly gave him an unsure smile back. It wasn’t easy to believe that he was being that friendly towards her, knowing he probably still carried a grudge. She didn’t blame him. If the roles were reversed she would carry a grudge too.

“You don’t know that John!” Sherlock grumbled, hating it when his best friend always tried comforting the genius with fallacies and falsehoods.

“Actually I do!” John countered. Sherlock turned to John completely incredulous. “Because this time, its not just you. It’s not just going to be you and him, on a rooftop. It’s going to be all of us. You, myself, Lestrade, Molly, Mycroft, the British Government, Mary and bloody Mrs. Hudson if need be! You’re not alone in this Sherlock, you never were if you bothered to look around you.” Sherlock looked away, refusing to become overcome with sentiment. John smiled glad to again silence the man with the realization that as much as he resisted, he did have friends and people that cared.

“Dr. Hooper, I believe that your computer has results.” Mycroft announced pointing to the computer that was beeping, ignored even though Molly was standing in front of it. Mycroft smiled fondly as she shook her head to remember herself.

“Y-yes. Um… Sherlock. I think I need your help.” Molly looked to the screen puzzled. Sherlock’s ears perked up at the possibility of an intriguing case.

“What is it?” He questioned looking at the screen in front of him.

“The body, it showed no signs of cause of death. I ran the tox screens, everything I could think of, nothing.” Molly looked to Sherlock worried. Showing the results that were nil. “If there was no cause of death to be found, what did he die of?” Molly questioned.

“Mmm.” Sherlock looked to the screen. He searched and searched through lab results, and known toxins, comparing their chemical make-ups with the results of the blood and looking to any of the levels of compounds in the blood that seemed to be off, even in the slightest. And finally the computer beeped with a positive result.

“Rat poison?” Molly questioned. “But I checked…” Molly was always thorough, always looked through even possibility yet this had alluded her.

“Yes in small amounts over a very long period of time until finally his body simply gave out. He wouldn’t even know it was happening to him. The levels were so minute that it almost went unnoticed unless you looked for it. This was in place for a while, advance planning, like a back up plan. If it needed to be called off, it would have been and the man wouldn‘t have been the wiser and he would have been alive.” The computer next to the lab results beeped with its own results as well. The face of the body on the slab came up but when he looked very much alive. Molly gasped backing away from the computer, the results disturbed her when she saw where the man worked.

“How did I not recognize…?” Molly began to tremble.

“What is it?” Mycroft questioned, both he and John came over to the computer to look at the screen. The man had worked in Bart’s, was a member of the night shift and was a regular employee.

John placed a comforting hand upon Molly’s shoulder. “It’s alright Molly, it’s not your fault, you don’t always know everyone where you work.” John must have felt very sympathetic to do that. Molly noted he still wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Hold on.” John questioned, having a brainstorm. Sherlock paid attention, it wasn’t often that an idea actually struck him. “If Molly’s the target, isn’t Moriarty showing us how she’s going to die?”

“Oh my god.” Molly looked to the dead mouse on the tray next to the body that was still on the slab. Sherlock walked over to it, pulling out his black gloves and opened the creature up to dissect it.

“Wait a minute.” Sherlock looked down to the mouse appalled, the mouse showed evidence of digesting food off of the dead man‘s tongue that was covered with rat poison as well. “He just didn’t want to kill the man, he…” Sherlock met Molly’s eyes not willing to finish his sentence.

“…Wants to kill the mouse that feeds off him.” Mycroft finished the sentence and the entire room looked to Molly. The metaphor behind the murder was clear. The doors to the lab opened and Lestrade walked through with Donovan hot on his heels.

“Sherlock what’s going on? You said that there was something about Moriarty and took off for the morgue.” Lestrade questioned looking around the room at everyone’s faces. His questioning brow centered upon Molly, knowing she would give him the answer to his question but his face softened to concern upon seeing Molly‘s ashen face. “Molls, what is it?” Lestrade looked to Molly with a smile, wondering what the hell was going on. Why did everyone look to Molly like she was a dead woman walking?

“It’s Jim. Moriarty. He…” Everything went black, Molly only heard Lestrade and Mycroft calling out for her. She couldn’t believe it, she had never fainted before, but that’s what you get for skipping lunch.

\---

When Molly came to, she was grateful to be looking at the face of Donovan. She smiled and helped Molly to sit up, she didn’t realize they had placed her upon one of the tables in the morgue. Thankfully it was a fair distance away from where the work on the cadaver was being done. Sherlock looked to be deep into his mind palace, trying to make all of the evidence before him and what he gathered from the breadcrumbs Moriarty had left so far into a coherent plan. Something that would make sense. John apparently had left to go check on Mary, anyone that calls Sherlock a friend would be at risk now. Now that included Mary, an assassin, but a very pregnant assassin.

Molly then looked to the glass panels that looked out to the hall and saw Mycroft and Lestrade arguing. She had no idea about what but Lestrade was clearly very angry. Mycroft while usually a man always in control seemed to be keeping a very thin hold upon that control, stamping his umbrella upon the floor in frustration. She felt a nudge in her side and looked to Donovan, the lieutenant tilting her head in the direction of the two men arguing.

“I don’t know what you did girl, but I would like to take some serious notes. Two of the most viable men in London fighting each other for you.” Donovan looked to the pathologist, her eyes crinkling in laughter.

“What?” Molly’s eyebrows jumped up in surprise until they almost touched her forehead. No. They couldn’t possibly be… not about her.

“Seriously I want to know how you did it. You didn’t hear them go at one another while you were out on the floor. I helped Dr. Watson put you here while they were arguing. It was all about you. Especially once the boss heard about what was going on, he was furious. The best Detective Inspector of Scotland Yard, and the one man British Government, incredible.” Donovan was impressed, knowing how quiet this woman was. Molly‘s opened her mouth in shock, still not understanding what Sally was talking about. “Don’t’ tell me you didn’t notice.” Donovan shook her head flabbergasted that the woman didn’t seem to understand what was going on around her.

“Notice what?” Molly questioned, drinking from the cup that Donovan pressed into her hands, glad for the hot tea warming her insides and easing the tension she felt.

“My boss. Lestrade. He’s absolutely mad about you.” Donovan explained. “Apparently the freak’s brother is, too.” Donovan shrugged not thinking much of Mycroft’s interest.

“No, they’re not. Greg… can’t possibly. H-he’s just nice to me, w-we’re friends.” Molly waved away the statement Donovan just said not believing her.

“I’ve never seen someone moon over a girl like the boss does over you. He checks his phone for your texts all the time, he comes to the morgue himself for results when he could easily have sent someone else, and he always hangs out with you first and everyone else second.” Molly’s eyes widened upon being told this, not knowing Lestrade to show her such favor. Donovan smiled looking out to the hallway as Lestrade got right into Mycroft’s face in a challenge, a challenge that he clearly thought he would win. “You should see the way he smiles when he comes into work the day after, or Monday after the weekend. None of us have seen him that happy in well… ever.” Donovan smiled to the woman that had put the smile on her boss’s face. Many at the Yard only knew Lestrade when he was well into his first marriage, when it had already begun to grow cold. They had never really seen the boss the way he was now, happy and keen to get with a girl, it was nice.

Donovan walked away from Molly towards the two men to let her chew upon the new information she had learned. Is it possible that her intuition about Greg’s feelings were right all along? Did he really care the way Donovan seemed to think he did? She didn’t get much time to think about it, Mycroft stormed back into the room, leaving Lestrade in the middle of his sentence, who followed him frustrated.

“…Molly won’t be forced to do anything she doesn’t want to do!” Lestrade argued. His words died on his lips when he saw Molly looking back at the two of them.

“Do what?” Molly questioned in that quiet way of hers that always begged Lestrade to pay attention.

“Nothing Molly you don’t have to do anything.” Lestrade jumped in before Mycroft opened his mouth. Mycroft turned to the man exasperated that he couldn’t control his hot temper. “She doesn’t!” Lestrade shouted at Mycroft. Mycroft turned back around to face Molly and explain what the argument was about.

“I merely suggested to the Detective Inspector, that it would be wise to put you into a safe house. Somewhere safe where Moriarty couldn’t get to you. It is the wisest choice as we do not know what kind of Moriarty we will be facing, or when he plans to strike.” Mycroft looked to Sherlock who had locked Moriarty’s room in his mind palace up tight and was now present again. He nodded to Mycroft in agreement.

“But what would that mean?” Molly questioned. Unclear as to why Lestrade would have a problem with it.

“It means you lose contact with all of us. If we’re caught going to your safe house, the location is compromised.” Lestrade explained. It would nearly be witness protection, except that was impossible with the consulting criminal. His expression was clouded over with pain at the thought of losing contact with Molly for any indeterminate amount of time what so ever. They had no idea how long it would take to catch Moriarty.

“And if we just put me somewhere where people can see me or I can go to work?” Molly questioned, wondering if they would catch on to what she was thinking.

“Well then it would very easy for Moriarty to- Ah!” Sherlock gasped finally getting Molly’s thought process. “Of course!” Sherlock nodded in understanding.

“Absolutely not, Sherlock! It’s too risky!” Mycroft disagreed emphatically right away.

“Why-Wha-? Would someone explain it to me?” Lestrade grumbled frustrated at being the only common sense person in the room.

“Miss. Hooper is suggesting that we jeopardize her own safety and set her up as a trap to flush Moriarty out of his little hidey hole.” Mycroft’s brow was stern and thunderous.

“Molly, you can’t be serious!” Lestrade’s face betrayed every ounce of his anger and disbelief.

“I’m perfectly serious, Greg. I won’t hide from him.” Molly lifted her chin in determination.

“Molls, please!” Lestrade tried to reason hands going on his hips.

“I mean it, Greg!” Molly shouted. “I must work! I need to look after Toby. I will not hide! Not from him! If he wants to come get me, then he’s going to have to go through all of you to get to me.” Molly smiled at the men around her, even Donovan who laid a comforting hand in agreement upon her shoulder. “Put me in a safe house that’s surrounded by undercover cops and secret service snipers if you must but I won’t stop living my life because of a bully.” Molly wiped a tear that fell in frustration. She was tired of all this nonsense.

“Bravo!” A familiar voice rang out through the room. Sherlock stood up looking around but a body attached to the voice was no where to be found.

“Irene.” Sherlock growled looking around the lab.

“Over here, love.” Sherlock looked down and saw Irene’s face in the computer screen, he clicked a few buttons and the video chat sprang up on the big screen on the other side of the room.

“Well that’s better now that I can see the whole room.” Irene purred, delighted at being the center of attention.

“What are you up to, Irene?” Sherlock smirked.

“Misbehaving.” Irene smirked, but a muffled scream in the background distracted her attention. She groaned in annoyance. “Excuse me. One second.” Irene turned back into the room and returned to the bound and gagged pathetic little man who’s laptop she was borrowing to beat him into submissive silence once more. He would enjoy himself, but hadn‘t known he would be doing this today. “Sorry about that, its so hard to find an obedient submissive these days. I told him to keep quiet.” Irene said lifting an eyebrow.

“Where are you?” Sherlock questioned barely able to make out shadows thrown by the computer screen.

“At a house with a decent internet connection. That’s really all you need to know.” Irene explained little, any more and she would put them all at risk.

“Miss. Adler, if you please.” Mycroft encouraged Irene to finish what she was saying. He should have known that the minx had survived all along.

“Right, I have a message from Jim.” Irene frowned, not liking to even say the man’s name though she refused to let any man have power over her. One of her many foibles. “He said to tell Molly Hooper this: ‘Run if you think you can little mouse but this cat will find you.’ What’s going on, Sherlock?” Irene questioned locking eyes with the detective.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.” Sherlock straightened his back not letting anything show to The Woman.

“Well I’d say that you got yourself in a sticky wicket with Moriarty coming back from the dead and now you’re in over your head. I’m all for playing games and getting into mischief but this man isn’t playing games anymore. Be careful, Sherlock. I’ve seen him in person. This isn’t like before.” Irene warned. “I have to go before he finds me, you all stay safe. Maybe I’ll see you soon, Sherlock Holmes.” Irene blew the computer screen a kiss and just like that the connection was lost. Sherlock closed the chat and looked to Molly. The whole room looked to Molly.

“Wait…” Lestrade looked around, body coiled tight with anxiety. “If Moriarty told her to say that, then how did he know of our plans?” Lestrade questioned. They all immediately looked around the room trying to find the bug he was listening on. Sherlock came before the mouse and cut into the guts of it, he pulled out the bug from the animal’s heart. It wasn’t possible but Sherlock swore he could hear Moriarty’s laughter cackling inside the listening device. He threw it to the ground and crushed it. The sound it made under his foot wasn’t nearly as satisfying as Moriarty’s skull would have.

“We need to move her to a safe location now. Miss. Hooper would you please go and collect your things? Miss. Donovan will escort you.” Donovan came to her shoulder guiding her towards the locker room. Mycroft dug his mobile out of his jacket pocket, unseeing, making arrangements.

“What about Toby? He needs to be fed.” Molly paused at the door. Mycroft smiled at her, knowing it to be a silly detail, but one that Molly would choose to worry about.

“Don’t worry he’ll be taken care of.” Mycroft assured, going back to the phone call he was taking. Molly gave him a frustrated glance and went with Donovan to collect her things. She did so without comment. She didn’t even have any clothes with her. When she made mention of it to Donovan she phoned Lestrade from the locker room. Lestrade assured Donovan that they would get Molly her things. Molly sighed. It would have to do for now. At least she could maintain some semblance of her normal life, and still come to work everyday.

\---

Once Molly finished packing her things in the locker room, she was hurried from the building into a van, from there transferred to a cab, onto an underground train to the edge of London, back to the city center in an unmarked vehicle and then put into a black sedan where she sat across from Mycroft and a woman typing on her phone. The whole nonsensical process took a couple of hours. She was starving, exhausted, and irritated. It made for a very acerbic combination. She was not in a good humor, and stared out of the car the entire way, completely ignoring Mycroft and his smug smile.

She watched as the London scenery passed by them, they were returning to somewhere only minutes away from St. Bart’s. All of this trouble for somewhere a cab ride away from her office!? Molly was miles away from annoyed in her frustration. They pulled up to the building and it was quite the posh place as a finely dressed bell hop came out to open her door. She doubted that Scotland Yard would go through all this trouble just for her, but she was giddy inside to think that maybe Lestrade had pulled strings to get her into a comfortable place like this.

She stepped out and Mycroft did with her as well. He offered her his arm, and smiled down to her in a habit quite unlike him. Molly looked more than just a little bit surprised as they went into the place. He escorted her inside and they walked together to the front desk.

“Ah, Mr. Holmes welcome! I have your usual reservation. Will you and your girlfriend be staying long?” The concierge smiled to Mycroft as if he stayed there regularly. Though with a town house in London Molly questioned why he would need a usual place in the hotel.

“Thank you very much. I am not aware of the length of our stay but my secretary will inform you of the details through email. If you don’t mind, we’ll be going up to the room now.” Mycroft smiled to the concierge, taking the key the concierge offered him and didn’t wait for a reply, escorting Molly into a waiting elevator. Once the lift took off he backed off to the other side of it.

“Wh-?” Molly tried to question but was silenced by Mycroft who put a finger to his lips. Molly grumbled to herself, whatever patience she had left was quickly wearing thin. They walked out of the lift once it reached the floor they were supposed to be on, one of the floors nearest to the top, and she allowed Mycroft to lead her to the room that was opened from the inside by an intimidating, dangerous looking man dressed all in black. The lights were off and Mycroft put them on himself, like they really were supposed to be here together. He looked to the man that closed to door and nodded his head to his boss.

“It’s clean, I checked.” The man announced. Mycroft nodded to Molly, she guessed this indicated that she could talk because there were no listening devices, cameras or bugs in the room. Molly gulped realizing just how serious this was, Mycroft looked completely calm, as if this was normality for him. He did seem completely relaxed as he took off his coat and hung it up in the coat closet by the door and hug his umbrella on the hook inside the door before closing it. He gestured for Molly to make herself comfortable, raising an eyebrow as she stood in the door way. Molly stomped her way over to the sitting area in a huff, ranting.

“What is all this about? Dragging me all around bloody London. Making me take an endless train ride. Telling a hotel concierge that I’m your girlfriend. Not being able to talk until you’re told a room is secure. I want an explanation Mycroft. I was supposed to be taken to a safe house. This is a wee bit more comfortable than a safe house.” Molly huffed sitting down in the nearest chair with an undignified flop. She was utterly exhausted.

“The hotel was my idea. It’s vastly more comfortable than whatever Scotland Yard can cook up, and I offered to pick up the tab for it. It’s nothing really. I wouldn’t do anything less for yourself, my dear. And I do apologize for that earlier subterfuge. I’ve stayed here before under the right circumstances, so I made it appear as though I was coming here for that purpose again. It’s the safest place for you at the moment.” Mycroft finished taking a seat next to her.

“Well thank you Mycroft. I would like to pay you back for this.” Molly tried, not liking that he was spending all this money on her.

“Don’t worry about that my dear, it’s no trouble really, and a week in this room would probably cost you a year’s salary, maybe more.” Mycroft smiled and chuckled to himself as he saw Molly’s eyes bug out. He offered her a menu for room service. “Care to order anything? You can have anything you’d like, you must be hungry.” Mycroft observed.

“What about my clothes, my things, and Toby? I can’t just wear a terrycloth bathrobe to work.” Molly barked back at Mycroft in frustration.

“Don’t worry about all that, my dear. It’s all been arranged.” Mycroft announced still offering her the menu, which she grabbed from his hand with a frustrated growl. She looked to it, and had no idea what to order. Everything the menu had to offer was all way above her usual accepted price range. Half of the items on the menu she had no idea how to pronounce. “Shall I order for you?” Mycroft questioned. She handed the menu back to him, begrudgingly admitting defeat to the fancy menu.

“Why are you doing this?” Molly questioned after Mycroft got off the phone with the concierge. She didn’t understand half of what he ordered but there was going to be the promise of a nice bottle of Merlot when the food came. At the very least if nothing was edible she would have a nice wine to get horribly drunk with. But really, who was she kidding? A Holmes would never order anything inedible.

“It’s the very least I can do for you, Molly. You’ve done so much for Sherlock. At the very least I could try to do the same for you, until we find Moriarty.” Mycroft smiled a tight lipped smile like he wanted to say more but stopped himself.

“But why all this bother? I didn’t want repayment. You could have just bought me a sweater or chocolates or something, I don’t know. I just don’t think you should all have made such a fuss. He’s more likely to come after Sherlock, right?” Molly shrugged not liking being a damsel in distress. She was a modern girl through and through, she didn’t want to be rescued.

“He threatened your life my dear. You. Out of all us.” Mycroft wondered how she didn’t get this.

“Yes but-” Molly still didn’t believe it.

“Meaning that he obviously knows of your involvement in keeping Sherlock alive, and you, the silly little pathologist that Moriarty thought didn’t count, made a fool out of the genius consulting criminal. He wants to repay you for that insult by killing you.” Mycroft grumbled looking out to the window in thought, his back ram rod straight. His tense stature indicated his anger. “He’s out there now, somewhere in this city, alive and coming after you. We won’t let him get to you, I promise.” Mycroft vowed with conviction, she looked over to him where he stood behind her like he had three heads.

“But I’m nobody. Really. This is what you would do for a politician, or someone with information against a terrorist, not someone like me. I‘m not important. I don‘t count.” Molly shook her head unbelieving. Even after Sherlock correcting her two years ago, she still didn’t think any of them esteemed her that highly.

“But you do count. You count to all of us, my dear. To everyone, to Sherlock, John, Mary, Mrs. Hudson, myself… the Yarder.” Mycroft sneered, admitting that yes, Lestrade did care for Molly. He had competition in an area he wasn’t familiar with. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. The man was a veritable Don Juan and Mycroft needed to acquaint himself with feelings.

“Does Greg know where I’m staying?” Molly questioned, Mycroft groaned unseen when he miscalculated at mentioning the man. He had been trying to avoid that all evening.

“Yes he will be informed. But really, the fewer number of people visiting you the better.” Mycroft explained.

“You‘re right. Sorry.” Molly blushed looking away. “Will I be able to go to work?” Molly changed the subject quickly, wincing at the idea of being cooped up in this hotel for the amount of time it would take Sherlock to track down his arch nemesis and put him away or kill him for good.

“You will be able to go back to work, but since its Thursday and not likely that anyone would take notice, I excused you from work until Monday. Consider it a little holiday. A long weekend.” Mycroft smiled, this made Molly scoff and walked away. “Where are you going?” He questioned turning to follow her.

“I need a minute.” Molly announced before closing the door to the powder room. She pulled out her phone and sent a text Greg.

**20:34pm Hey.**

**20:36pm Where are you?**

**20:37pm Can’t say. But its bloody expensive.**

**20:38pm Oh right. Stupid thing to ask. Lucky you. Is Mycroft there?**

**20:41pm Yes. But I’m in the bathroom. I wish you were here.**

Molly didn’t know if that sounded desperate but it was the truth really.

**20:45pm I would, if I could. Better if I don’t right now. Sherlock has us running about. No sign of JM yet.**

Molly didn’t quite know what Greg meant when he thought it was better if he didn’t stop by. Was it in reference to herself or to fighting with Mycroft again? She had to admit she wouldn’t mind seeing either happen.

**20:48 Are you busy? I wouldn’t want to distract you.**

**20:49 Don’t worry. It’s mostly Sherlock and John. You’re the best kind of distraction. ;)**

Molly smiled at this. She looked down at the time on her mobile and saw how long she had been in the bathroom.

**20:50 Really should go. I’ll talk to you soon, I hope. Won’t be in work until Monday. :(**

**20:51pm I’ll try and work it out so I can see you. If not, see you Monday. Gnight, Molls.**

**20:52pm Gnight Greg!**

Molly put her phone away and went to the sink, glad to have talked to Lestrade a little bit. She washed her hands, so that Mycroft wouldn’t deduce what she had been doing. Not that he wouldn’t know anyway. She didn’t want Greg to worry about what might have happened to her between when they were at St. Bart’s and getting here.

She stepped out of the bathroom and saw that dinner had arrived. It was much more than she could eat, enough for the three of them. The body guard was sitting in the corner at one of the tables, at a blind corner that was away from the window, eating a bit of everything that was there. He didn’t have any wine, Molly noted. She was glad that someone in the room would be sober.

“I took the liberty of ordering a little bit of variety. Like you said, you didn’t know what to order and I was unaware of what you would like to eat. I’m sure you’ll find something to your satisfaction. I did order a merlot that will pair well with most of what you’ll find here.” Mycroft gestured to the trolley before her. She took one of the glasses that were poured, utensils wrapped in a white linen napkin and what smelled like a divine poultry concoction into the bedroom. Mycroft simply watched this with a raised eyebrow. She returned for the rest of the bottle taking it into the bedroom, in what Mycroft would have thought was a very fetching manner, if he didn‘t know here current state of mind. There was a powder room in the main room so she didn’t feel the least bit bad about closing the doors to the bedroom where there was the bigger of the two bathrooms.

“I’ll be taking a bath after I eat and then going to bed. Please try your best to get my things and Toby before tomorrow morning if at all possible. Knock when they arrive. I’m sorry I can’t be more sociable tonight but I’m extremely tired. Thank you for all this really, Mycroft. Good night.” Molly closed the doors to the room and breathed a sigh of relief.

\---

Finally she was away from the two men. Both were very unnerving in their way, she thought, as she sat down on the bed by the night stand with the plate of food and her wine. The bodyguard, for his general unease and always standing or sitting in a blind spot when in a room, like he didn’t trust a bullet not to whiz by him at any point in time, making Molly nervous, and Mycroft was being unnerving simply for the fact that he was being attentive to the point of smothering. Not in a way that was normal for a man, not like Lestrade could potentially be, but for a Holmes. Sociopathic obsession was a step above and beyond smothering.

The food as expecting was something vastly more indulgent than just delicious, and the wine was the perfect partner. By the end of dinner, she was feeling quite a bit hazy, thanks to a couple glasses of the very expensive wine, and much more charitable to Mycroft and his need to control everything in that very moment. She was thankful and knew that his controlling nature was the reason she was alive and probably would escape it unscathed at the end of this. She just had to put up with a lot of things right now to get to that point. She could do this.

Right now, however, she recalled seeing a very lovely bath tub, walls covered with Jacuzzi jets and it was time to put them to some good use. She checked once to make sure no one was going to come in to check on her and went about the process of getting ready for her bath. She turned on the bath, and set the Jacuzzi jets to a setting that she knew would be perfection, and began to disrobe. There was a knock at the door. She jump letting out a squeak, covering herself as if they could see through the doors of into the bathroom. She fumbled with her shirt, trying to clumsily shove her arms back into the sleeves.

“Dr. Hooper, it’s Anthea. Mycroft’s assistant. I have your things.” Anthea announced from the other side of the door. Molly turned off the faucet to the tub and opened the door. Anthea slid in and closed it behind her. She came in bearing a familiar bag Molly used for long vacations, and a smaller bag Molly was unfamiliar with and saw the side of it poke and prod from the inside.

“I also brought someone who is anxious to see you.” Anthea smiled in a friendly way, and pulled out Toby, who was just a wee bit perturbed at being suddenly relocated. Anthea dimpled at seeing mother and cat reunited. The cat immediately rubbed up against his familiar, glad to see a regular face. Toby yowled and Molly let Toby curl up on the bedspread on top of her things, glad to be around familiar smells, and his chosen person. He licked his paws to soothe himself while eyeing Anthea suspiciously. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to pick you up again.” Anthea talked to cat who licked his mouth in reply. This calmed him enough that he curled all the way up and resumed his nap. “You’ll find his other things in a bag outside the door. If you wouldn’t mind having a look to see if I got everything, I’ll make a note to fetch anything else before I go.” Anthea requested this while looking at her phone. Molly looked into the bag and found everything that she would have packed for herself, including all of her powder things in the bag she would pack them in. Oh this girl was really good. No wonder Mycroft had her as his assistant.

“That is quite literally everything I would have packed for myself. Nothing is missing. Thank you very much for that, Anthea.” Molly smiled to the woman who was still looking down at her phone.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Holmes will be leaving you for tonight now but he’ll return tomorrow afternoon for lunch and again tomorrow evening for dinner. If there’s anything that I can get you, just let him know and it will be fetched.” Mycroft called from the next room and Anthea barely lifted an eyebrow while still looking down at her phone. “A moment, sir!“ She stopped whatever she was doing to take a lasting look at Molly. Although, Molly had to wonder why.

“What?” She questioned.

“I’ve been Mr. Holmes’s assistant for quite some time, years in fact and in that time I’ve never seen him taken such an interest in anyone, not like he has in you. I can tell you that he wouldn’t go through this much trouble for just anyone. Not even someone with information of value. Not even his own brother, and we both know what lengths he went through to protect Sherlock.” Molly nodded at that. “I would just like you to know that if you would like to receive his attentions, you would be a very lucky and well-kept woman.” Anthea finished. Molly was aghast. What brought this up? What was it with women who worked under these men suddenly getting the idea of telling her all this?

“This is the second time someone has said something like that to me today, of all days! How can you be sure he feels this way for me at all?” Molly didn’t believe any of this, not from Sherlock and most definitely not from his cold elder brother. “You know the Holmes men, they don’t feel at all.”

“He doesn’t much care for the way the Detective Inspector looks in your direction. That is something he would never care to even notice. Also, he would never handle something himself that he could easily delegate to lesser ranks. Scotland Yard could have handled this efficiently enough, even that Detective Inspector can protect a witness. No, this he did himself. No detail was too small. When Mr. Holmes becomes obsessed in that capacity, it’s because he cares. As much as he likes to pretend he doesn’t. He cares about you, Dr. Hooper. Lucky you.” Anthea smiled to Molly like she had won the biggest prize in the entire world. Molly was completely at a loss. “Think about it. Mr. Holmes will see you tomorrow afternoon. Goodnight, Dr. Hooper.” Five minutes, the woman was in the room for five minutes and now Molly’s head was in a compete muddle.

She took out her lavender shampoo, conditioner and her body wash and was glad for the privacy once again. She placed the soaps into the shower and resumed filling the tub and getting ready for her bath. She took the book she was currently reading out of her bag, and her refilled glass of wine as well as the bottle and was glad to see that the tub was finally filled. The jets were rumbling the water in what looked to be the most divine fashion. She stepped in and let out a long sigh. The water was hot and the water massaged her in a glorious way that immediately relaxed her. She reached for her wine glass she placed there earlier and allowed the water to lull her into a secure place. She took her book from beside the tub and began reading.

In here, for a few minutes, her mind drifted away from her tumbling thoughts of Greg, Mycroft, Moriarty. Her life that seemed to be devoid of men was abruptly filled with them. For not being involved with men at all, her life seemed to certainly be quite the opposite. She had to admit though, being the object of attentions for the one man British Government did have its advantages, as she sipped her wine, being cuddled by bubbles. For being a safe house, it was quite the oasis. That’s how she would look at this respite, an oasis from her troubles. She would use the time here as an escape, so she might work everything out. At the very least, she had until Monday. For now however, she was going to relax. She could think of this all later. She emptied her mind, and allowed the bubbles to relax her tense muscles. She wondered if she would be allowed to have a massage while she was here. If Mycroft was offering to pay, she might as well make the most of it. She giggled into the steamy air at that thought. Maybe she would ask if he would join her as a joke and see how he would respond. Sherlock would most definitely like to be a fly on the wall when she did that. She sipped her wine, toasting herself. Good one, Molly Hooper. The rest of the bath was quite relaxing, and just what she needed.

Stepping out of the tub, Molly went to the shower and washed her body and hair. The wine had certainly done its job as well as the Jacuzzi bath, her muscles were as relaxed as cooked noodles and she was feeling rather sleepy as she wrapped herself in a robe once she was done drying her body and hair. She brushed through her hair a bit and really didn’t have the energy for much more. She pushed her suitcase onto the bench in front of the bed and pulled the covers down as best as she could, which wasn’t much. She crawled under them and passed out. Her eyes only opened once when Toby rubbed at her arms for a comfortable nest to curl up in. She slept well, better than she thought she would as a person that had a maniacal, consulting criminal that was back from the dead and out for her life. But that was the type of security a girl could find under the watchful eye of Mycroft Holmes, who spent the night watching her hotel room on CCTV from his ivory tower.

\---

The next morning, Molly woke from her sleep and forgot where she was, but found Toby pawing at her robe belt. Once he looked up and noticed she was awake, he meowed in her direction and slinked forward to nuzzle at her face. He was practically yowling for her to get up. She knew just what he was crying for, given that it had been well past the previous morning since she had put food out for him. He wasn’t particularly hungry for food the night before when he was most unceremoniously removed from his domicile. Now however, he wanted his mother to feed him.

“Alright, alright. I know you’re hungry.” Molly rose from the comforting warmth of the bed, brushed her teeth and threw on a jumper and some yoga pants. Toby paced impatiently during this process. “Will you let me carry you? You can’t roam free here, if you get out I can’t imagine what the hotel will say.” Molly explained, Toby simply licked his lips in response. Anything for food apparently. Molly scooped him up and carried him into the living room. Once again the body guard was sitting in a blind corner where he could keep an eye on both the door and the window. In the middle of the room there was another trolley this time filled with breakfast stuffs, and a covered plate she assumed was a full English breakfast plate. First things first, she went to a tall white shopping bag and first pulled out Toby’s kitty litter and travel litter box, then she pulled out a can of his favorite food. Usually she didn’t like him eating his wet food except for at night, but she would be spoiling him until they get back home. She pulled the lid off his food and allowed him to hop out of her arms and while he was busy eating, she set up his litter box in the powder room and then allowed herself a moment to decide what she would eat for breakfast. She was never a big breakfast person. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy a big breakfast now and then, but most days she just couldn’t be bothered. She pulled some toast from the rack, and poured herself a coffee. She sat down and looked to the man that was her body guard. He looked to her as if he was trying to read her thoughts in her every move.

“Are you sure you don’t want the breakfast plate? It would be a shame to waste it.” Molly suggested, she brought it over to him and brought him a set of utensils and a coffee as well. He unraveled his nervous limbs and began to eat.

“Thanks.” That was all he said.

“You’re welcome. It would be a shame to waste this time not talking.” Molly smiled in his direction as she are her toast trying to be friendly.

“I appreciate it but the less you know about me and the less I know about you, the better.” The man said cutting up his eggs and shoveling them into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in days other than the small meal he allowed himself to eat the night before. Molly guessed regular eating was a luxury this man wouldn‘t allow himself to have.

“What can I call you though? I can’t just say ‘you’ or ‘hey’ for the entire time we’re here.” Molly growled in frustration.

“You can call me Teddy.” The man introduced himself with a smirk. This girl had spunk. He could appreciate that.

“Is that your actual name or an alias?” Molly questioned.

“It’s close enough.” ‘Teddy’ let out a puff of air in a way of a chuckle. At least he wasn’t completely emotionless. Well Molly guessed she could understand how he felt, being an agent that lived his type of life. She once had her own secrets to keep, so did Sherlock for two years.

“Alright Teddy, I’m Molly.” Molly introduced herself in return.

“That I know, the boss gives us intel about all our assignments.” Molly lifted an eyebrow at this.

“Is that all I am? An assignment?” She questioned.

“It’s all you can be.” Teddy mumbled tight lipped. Molly nodded looking out to the London landscape from the hotel window. She supposed that was all she could expect from a man that spent his life running around on secret missions for the British Government.

“I can tell that your accent isn’t exactly British. So you’re not from here, are you?” Molly queried, not yet giving up on having a conversation with the only other human in the room. Toby was licking himself on a bench in front of the window to catch the sun for a nap, finished with his breakfast, the tin half empty. He’d have the rest for dinner.

“I’m not from here no, but I do live here now. That’s all you need to know. I’m British enough to work British Intelligence.” Molly nodded. She was fishing for answers and he was a fish that wasn’t biting.

“Is there anything I can do while I’m here? Swim? Get a massage? Work out in the gym?” Molly didn’t want to cooped up here, she really didn’t. With the bodyguard in the room eyeing her, she really felt claustrophobic.

“Not unless the boss gives the okay.” Molly growled. She took out her phone and realized she didn’t have her charger. She searched through the bag that had been packed for her and was glad to find it in a compartment. She plugged the phone in to charge, and groaned seeing that the clock hadn’t moved at all. She read, and found that she fell asleep until a knock on the door to the bedroom announced the arrival of Mycroft for lunch. Molly sprung up from the bed, disliking Mycroft seeing her in a vulnerable state. Mycroft couldn’t remember thinking a rumpled appearance to be more attractive.

“Mycroft. Finally. What’s going on? Is there any sign of Moriarty yet?” Molly questioned getting up to go into the living room. Toby hadn’t moved at all from his spot in front of the window and didn’t plan on moving at all, unperturbed by what was going on around him. Molly noted that there was already a trolley there for lunch. She took a sandwich plate and a cup of tea and curled up on the couch putting the plate on her lap and the tea next to her. She noted neither man touched the trolley.

“There’s nothing so far, its as if the threat didn’t happen at all. There are cases Sherlock is working, hoping that something in one of them will lead to Moriarty but he’s not up to his usual tricks. This is something new, something different. I don’t think any of us is acquainted with this side of Jim Moriarty.” Mycroft grumbled in frustration. He didn’t like not knowing the outcome of this.

“And what side is that?” Molly questioned.

“The side that wants to get his hands dirty and do the work himself. Beyond the game he played with Sherlock. He usually stays above it all, now he’s vengeful and wants justice. We haven’t even seen the amount of destruction of which this man is capable.” Mycroft leveled Molly with a look. She pushed her plate aside no longer feeling very hungry. Mycroft noted this lowering his head apologetically. “I’m sorry if I’ve interfered with your appetite my dear that was not my intention.” Molly smiled to him, and picked up the plate again but didn’t do more than pick at its contents now.

“Will I see anyone at all?” Molly questioned.

“I don’t believe that to be wise.” Mycroft shook his head, he knew who she wanted to see. Even though he would give her anything she asked for, it just wasn’t wise to bring people in and out of the hotel. It was being watched, though Mycroft didn’t tell her that.

“Fine. Can I at least go places within the hotel? Swimming pool? Get a massage?” Molly tried to at least get out of the room, so that she might waste some time somewhere else. In here, she was a caged animal.

“Not right now my dear. We have no idea who might be here to gather intelligence for him. It’s unwise. Too many people wandering about. But I can have someone sent up to the room if you would be in need of a massage.” Molly waved the request aside and huffed at being stuck in the room.

“I suppose in a Scotland Yard safe house I’d be in the same situation.” Molly pondered.

“Yes but in a place no where near as comfortable and with greasy take out for food.” Mycroft cringed at the idea of what kind of place the Yard would scrounge up for her.

“Yes, you’re right. But I would be more comfortable in that situation.” Molly replied under her breath. She just wasn’t used to this kind of life.

“Would you have been?” Mycroft questioned unbelieving of her claim.

“Probably not, but maybe this would have resolved itself sooner.” Molly smiled at Mycroft’s face when she suggested that he probably would have gotten to her sooner when protected by the Yard.

“True. I have to get back to work. Shall I be seeing you at dinner this evening?” Molly raised a sarcastic eyebrow in his direction. He laughed to himself as he left. Once he left the hotel suite, Molly huffed back onto the couch putting the plate aside. That man could be infuriating. How could he be so infuriating yet still find a way to occupy her thoughts? She allowed herself some time to think of him, Greg, and what Moriarty had planned. These thoughts allowed her not to notice the passing of the day until once again it was evening, and the previous evening passed as it did before with dinner, except she stayed around until Mycroft excused himself to return to his home, and then she went to bed to leave the body guard to his guarding.

\---

The weekend followed in a similar fashion. Molly was going stir crazy but during the weekend, Mycroft came for longer, and did what he could to occupy her. He brought her some paper work from the office she would have filled out on Friday. So now at least she was ready for the week as she normally would have been. The case was at a standstill, Moriarty was eerily silent and no one liked it. No one. A quiet Moriarty wasn’t a good thing. The momentary relief it gave only meant a bigger catastrophe was to follow. The last time he had been silent like this, Sherlock had to fake his own death. Molly would not be given that opportunity. She or someone else would die, she said as much to Mycroft Sunday night. She was quite hysterical, no longer able to hold onto her ability to keep quiet. Teddy looked to his boss uneasy. If she didn‘t calm down she could alert people to her location and ruin the safety of the safe house. Mycroft did something he normally would never do, he came in front of her and forcibly enfolding her in his arms. She struggled in her hysterics until the strength of his embrace finally calmed her. Strange, she never would have thought being embraced by Mycroft Holmes could be called calming, but at that very moment it was very calming. She hadn’t realized she was crying until she felt Mycroft’s hand press her head into his shoulder. After a few tears and a couple deep breaths Molly gained control of her faculties again.

“I’m sorry,” Molly apologized with a halting sigh. “I’m just so afraid of what will happen. Aren’t you?” Molly questioned him, he looked so calm.

“Of course I am but it does no good to get emotional about it. Sentiment, you see. That’s why I’m going out of my way to be in control of all the details, it gives me control over my thoughts. Assures me that I’ve done everything that I can.” Mycroft smiled down to her, his hands were still on her shoulders. They felt warm and gave her comfort. She smiled up to him, she was surprised when he leaned in to kiss her forehead. He wouldn’t allow himself more, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to do more. There was too much going on, she couldn’t think. Toby slinked along her legs, looking for affection. He noted when his familiar needed his kisses.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed now.” It was only a little past ten o’clock, and she wasn’t that tired if she were honest with herself. She just wanted to put some distance between herself, the piercing gaze of Teddy, and also from Mycroft and his unnerving touch. She didn’t know where they stood now. Or even what she thought of Lestrade. It felt like she hadn’t seen him in forever, and he hadn’t sent a text since they talked. He had promised to try to visit, maybe that was why. He didn’t want to admit that he had been thwarted by the great and powerful Mycroft Holmes. It was no matter, he promised to visit tomorrow. She smiled as she curled up with Toby to go to sleep. She would be going to work in the morning, as she set the alarm on her phone for six-thirty, and her life would have some sense of normalcy. She turned off the light and laid awake for some time, noting that the voices in the next room were going over details Mycroft hadn’t thought she should be privy to, they were muffled and she was frustrated that she couldn’t divine any details from them. She turned away from Toby, and he curled up against her back. The purring warmth he had to offer lulled her into a calm state that eased her gently to a black dreamless sleep.

\---

Molly stuttered awake with her alarm, she stretched and went about her usual process of getting ready for the day. This day however, felt like she was either preparing for her execution, or preparing for battle. She didn’t know which one but she dressed with purpose. Once she was dressed and had Toby comfortably settled in his new travel bag she came out from the bedroom. Mycroft was waiting for her reading the paper and sipping from a tea cup. He looked decidedly uneasy than he usually did. If she knew Mycroft, she would say that the man was on edge. So was she, no one knew what would happen today, and today she was going to expose herself by going to work. But she refused to stop going to work. She drank a cup of coffee and ate what little she could of a slice of toast. Hopefully, the work would ease her worries and allow her to eat better later. She nodded to Mycroft and Teddy and stood, this announcing that she was ready to leave for work. Mycroft gathered the paper under his arm, and his coat and umbrella and they left shortly after Teddy did. Once they were in the car, Toby on the floor of the car next to Molly’s feet, and her things packed into the trunk of Mycroft’s car, they set off for St. Bart’s.

“I’ll see that your things are back at your flat. If nothing happens today, we’ll pick them, and Toby, up again before going back to the hotel.” Molly nodded, glad that Mycroft had through over the details of her where her things would go. They dropped off Molly’s things at her apartment and then headed back in the direction of St. Bart’s. Once they reached St. Bart’s they drove to the back of the hospital and drove to the top of the car park and back down to the back door. Mycroft smiled, opening the door himself and helping Molly out of the car. “Have a good day, Molly.” He smiled down to Molly and she smiled back meeting his eyes and eyed the doors a little unsure of what she would find there. But she squared her shoulders, trying to live up to her declaration of not being intimidated by Moriarty’s threats. She walked into the building, going through her usual process, smiling to familiar faces as she went. She stopped in to say hello to Mike Stamford who inquired after her. She smiled bravely and said that everything was fine. He patted her back reassuringly and told her to just go about her normal day and not think about anything. She smiled in thanks and left for the labs and her office. What she wasn’t expecting was a familiar face greeting her when she got there. Teddy was waiting inside her office, once again in the only blind corner in the room.

“I snuck in ahead of you.” Teddy smiled thinly. He must always sneak in everywhere, she thought, perturbed at how easy it was for him to do so. She put down the files Mycroft had gotten her from the weekend onto her desk and then went into the locker room to take off her things and put them into her locker. Once that was finished she went about her usual Monday morning tasks of organizing said completed paper work and then went about looking at the work pile that was waiting for her for the day. Most of the post-mortems were pretty straight forward, there were a couple of interest, and one mystery one, a John Doe with very little details attached to his case. She would start with the obvious one’s to process them as soon as possible and then work her way to the John Doe as his body would take the most time. She went about her work in the usual fashion, Teddy retrieved her coffee and food from the cafeteria at her request so that she might stay in one location and not walk about the building. As long as she could work, she didn’t mind.

\---

Just as lunch rolled around, the doors to the labs wooshed open and Molly looked up and smiled to Lestrade just as Teddy pulled a gun on him. Lestrade froze and looked to Molly. Molly came from where she was working and reached out to Teddy.

“No! Teddy! That’s Detective Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard. Mycroft knows him, he works with Sherlock. Put your gun away!” Molly ordered pulling the man’s arm down. Teddy grumbled a half-apology sitting down in his seat in her office again and pulled out a phone, obviously informing Mycroft about her visitor. Lestrade looked to Molly with a raised eyebrow and pointed to the take away lunch he had brought. Molly nodded pointing to a table on the other side of the lab, away from her body guard and the experiments. Molly finished what she was working on. Once she finished she sat across from Lestrade smiling to him in relief, glad that they could eat together. She looked down at her sandwich, smiling that he knew exactly what she would order. She opened up the hot chocolate he ordered for her, breathing in the soothing smell of chocolate. Lestrade looked over to where Teddy was sitting wondering how freely he could talk to her.

“I’m sorry about not visiting this weekend. Every time I tried, Mycroft found some reason to say no.” Lestrade grumbled, frustrated with the elder Holmes brother. Molly dimpled at this, glad that he had tried.

“It’s alright, I asked and he told me no, as well. He was right though you know. That it wasn’t good for you to visit.” Molly tried to soothe his concern.

“Why? Because you and he needed to be alone?” Lestrade questioned.

“No!” Molly laughed at his jealousy, thinking that there was something going on between Mycroft and herself. “Because if you were seen going there to visit me, it might have drawn attention. That’s all!” Molly assured looking to Lestrade over her hot chocolate, her sandwich finished a while ago. Lestrade had lost his appetite somewhere in the middle of thinking that Molly might actually have willingly spent time with that puffed up oaf. Molly thought it quite adorable. Once she assured him, he went back to his sandwich.

“Listen at the end of all this, when you’re no longer at the safe house, being wined and dined by the great and powerful Mycroft Holmes, would you… would you like to…?” Lestrade gulped trying to find his voice to ask what he had been dying to ask all this time.

“Would I like to what?” Molly encouraged him to finish his sentence, time stopping and the rest of the room disappearing, as everything seemed to hang on what Lestrade was trying to ask her.

“Would you go out to dinner with me? Not to the pub to hang out as we usually do. But you know, a proper date.” Lestrade blushed looking down at the napkin he was twisting around in his hands. If Molly could smile anymore her face would have torn in two.

“Yes I would love that.” Molly smiled, her cheeks an attractive pink that made Lestrade’s heart race. At least there was something to look forward to at the end of this. They were interrupted from eyeing one another over the leftovers of their lunch by Lestrade’s mobile.

“Lestrade.” He said curtly into the phone, after he talked to the other line he stood up, looking around. He half expected Moriarty to be there, then the lights went out. “Shit.”

“What’s going on?” Molly questioned, her heart racing.

“He’s here. Now.” Lestrade whispered. Teddy was in the office, asleep it looked like. Lestrade went over and nudged the man to wake him up. His body fell over limp. Lestrade backed away as if burnt, he felt the man‘s pulse and breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s passed out.” The tea he had been drinking apparently was laced with a powerful sleeping agent. Molly covered her mouth before she could let out a scream that was trying to work its way out of her throat. What were they to do? Moriarty wasn’t anywhere in sight, but every noise put them on edge. Lestrade came over and enveloped Molly in his arms and they ducked behind the tables. They heard the familiar laughter of Moriarty‘s echoing from the hallway. Molly covered her ears and Lestrade looked down to her, putting his mouth to her temple and pulled out his gun. Lestrade rose into action, not able to stand still but wanted to go after him and silence Moriarty himself. Molly pulled on his jacket, begging him to stay with her. But Lestrade patted her shoulder assuring her he knew what he was doing as he took off down the hallways searching for the man so he could kill him or arrest him before he got to Molly.

“Molly…” The maniac called out to her. “Come out little mouse, I know where you are. There’s no use in hiding.” Moriarty called out in his usual sing-song as Lestrade followed the sounds. Every room he opened was either filled with doctors and nurses cowering, or completely empty. Lestrade growled in frustration. Molly braced herself to greet death when she heard the doors to the labs woosh open. But the footsteps were too hurried to be Moriarty’s, as he seemed to be taking his time, flirting with her demise. She looked up and reached out with a half-sob when she saw that it was Sherlock. He hugged her and then checked to make sure that she was indeed alright.

“John is helping with Lestrade to look for him, I just wanted to check and make sure he hadn’t gotten to you yet.” Sherlock growled fiercely. He looked around him when the laughter echoed from somewhere nearby.

“What?” Molly questioned trying not to become hysterical.

“He’s toying with us. He knows exactly where you are and is waiting to make his move.” Sherlock looked around. A door opened near them, across the hall, and Sherlock stood up to look and go after the sound.

“Sher-” But the man was gone, even though Molly knew it wasn’t wise to leave her here, alone and exposed. She went over to the man that was supposed to be her bodyguard and shook the prone form trying to wake him up. Nothing. She felt too exposed.

“He’s going to be asleep for the next eight hours. Won’t even know what happened.” A eerily familiar voice sang out from inside the lab. He talked the same way he did before, only worse. The insanity was showing, desperate, where as before it had a purpose. Molly stood up and turned around to face Moriarty. He wasn’t like the Jim that was in control, not the Jim that had meticulously planned the game that led to Sherlock’s plunge. No this Moriarty was something much worse. This Moriarty wasn’t playing games anymore. The sunken in black eyes, no longer held the pointed gaze of deductive genius, they were wide and manic, gave her goose bumps. He was dressed like a tramp from the streets, covered in grime and smelled of the sewers. Bile rose in her throat the closer Moriarty got to her. He held a gun loosely in his hand, his wrist limp. The way Moriarty waved it around as he looked around the lab made her body shake in fear.

“What’s going to happen?” Molly questioned moving as far away Moriarty as she could. But the farther away she got, the further he inched towards her. She backed up until her back met the cold steel of a file cabinet. There was no where to go.

“Oh little mouse don’t be like that. You know exactly what’s going to happen.” Moriarty reached out and grabbed her by the back of the head, a fistful of her hair in his twisted in his grasp. “I want my revenge.” He whispered seething with anger into her ear as she turned away from the smell and out of fear.

Moriarty pulled her by the hair into the lab. He threw her and she landed on the floor, her arm knocking over an experiment, microscope, glass beakers, and vials of blood shattering on the floor in her wake. She backed up, not taking her eyes away from the man, using the sleeves of her lab coat to prevent the glass and contaminated vials from cutting her skin, she winced. Yup, she definitely had a broken, if not shattered, wrist. Adrenaline was a panacea against the pain. The further she tried to back away the closer it seemed Moriarty came to her. Her heart and breathing were erratic, she could feel the pounding muscle trying to work its way out of her chest. Molly fought the sobs that were working their way out of her mouth with each panicked breath. There was no escape.

“Did you think it was funny? Making a fool out of me? Little mousey pathologist Molly Hooper destroys Consulting Criminal James Moriarty by assisting the Great Sherlock Holmes in his death-defying suicide. ME!!!” His scream echoed off the wall and made Molly cower in fear. “I will destroy him this time, for good. And I’m going to start with you. No more Molly Hooper. I WILL MAKE SURE OF THAT!” She heard the shouting in the hallway, but knew that Lestrade, John, Sherlock, they were all too late. She just wished that she could have been with Lestrade, just once. It would have been wonderful. She braced herself for the end. “This is fitting though isn’t it? The lab? You probably planned it here. Sherlock’s escape. Well now this is where his little mouse dies.” Moriarty started cackling. “You’re going to die!! It’s over.” Molly braced herself as she stared down the barrel of Moriarty’s gun, and watched him release the safety and load it. Behind Moriarty a similar metal ping of a gun safety being released echoed off the walls. Lestrade stood behind Moriarty with the barrel of his gun pointed at Moriarty’s head, fierce and rippling with anger.

“For you, it is.” Lestrade loaded his gun against the back of Moriarty’s head. “If you make one move, I. Will. End. You.” Lestrade warned, pushing against Moriarty’s skull so that the maniac would understand his meaning. “And this time, you’ll really be dead. I will see to that.” Lestrade didn’t care how much trouble he would get in for this. For Molly’s life, it would be worth it.

Moriarty however would not surrender. He would not go quietly and live out his days in prison. He pointed the gun in Molly’s direction and screamed, pulling the trigger. A shot rang out, with another shot burying itself in the back of his head, splattering his brains against the opposite wall. The bullet he fired buried itself in the wood of the table just above Molly’s shoulder. Molly shuddered, unable to move as Lestrade turned the man over, checked to make sure he was dead and unloaded his weapon into the body of Moriarty until the metal clink of the gun told him it was empty.

John and Sherlock burst through following the sound of the shots and saw the scattered glass, blood and the remains of Moriarty on the floor. Sherlock looked on, his world shifting on an axis. There was no more Jim Moriarty. For as insane as the man was, he was a rival, an equal, a man that thought the way Sherlock thought, and now he was no more. There would never be another like him. It was over. John went to the body and checked to make sure it was indeed over. He looked to Lestrade, and Lestrade nodded. John dug out his mobile and called Scotland Yard, letting them know Moriarty was there and that they would need a body bag.

Molly whimpered looking down to the dead man, his manic eyes open and still staring angrily at her. Lestrade lifted Molly off of the floor and into his arms, crushing her against him. She sobbed into his shoulder grabbing at his suit jacket with her good hand. Lestrade wove his fingers through her hair and comforted her with whispered assurances. She was alive, they were alright, it was all over. A mantra he repeated while she calmed down. He backed off to meet her eyes and wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

“Are you alright Molly?” He questioned, she smiled despite feeling completely wrung out.

“I hurt myself trying to get away from him.” Lestrade immediately patted her down, and was frightened at the amount of blood coating her lab coat. She let out a breathy chuckle at his concerned and lifted a terribly bruised wrist for his inspection. Lestrade winced at the sight of it. “Clumsy, aren’t I?” Lestrade smiled down to her running his fingers along her wrist where it bruised. Molly’s insides warmed at the feather light touch. Donovan stormed into the room along side several officers at that moment.

“Come on Molly, lets you Sherlock and I go out to the ambulance and see to that wrist.” John suggested, supported the injured wrist with practiced hands and led Molly out of the room and away from Lestrade almost against her will. She looked back and met his heated gaze that followed her, completely ignoring the words that Donovan was speaking to him.

\---

Molly sat on the floor of the ambulance, looking down at her broken wrist. Teddy was laid up on the gurney, still sound asleep. She was amazed that she had almost met her end and all she had to show for it was a broken wrist. Lestrade had killed a man, for her. That didn’t change no matter how many times she tried to look down at her wrist and see it differently. He killed, without remorse, without a second thought. She should be shaken by that fact but she couldn’t help but feel the security of knowing once again her life was no longer at risk. She looked up to see Lestrade looking around at the activity around them, clean up crews were cleaning up the crime scene, another group of men were wheeling out a body bag full of dead Moriarty, a fitting end. Molly was glad to see it go. Lestrade met her gaze, they shared a look and Lestrade looked to her left and down. Molly observed this and looked up to see Mycroft looking down to her. His car was in the distance. Anthea standing by the car thumbing at her phone.

“I hope you are alright?” Mycroft questioned, his brow knit in concern.

“Just a broken wrist.” Molly waved the hand that was wrapped in a cast before Mycroft. He took it in his hands, and Molly was stilled into stunned silence by his gentle touch.

“I should have been here for you.” Mycroft sighed regretfully, allowing her to take her arm back from his grasp. She pulled it to her chest, looking away from Mycroft’s gaze.

“You couldn’t. Leg work. Not really your area.” Molly smiled looking back up. She saw Sherlock and John come over and stand next to Mycroft.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence just when the trouble is over, Mycroft?” Sherlock growled. His brother always managed to avoid getting his hands dirty, and that irked Sherlock to no end.

“I was simply checking up on Molly here, and to make sure that Moriarty is dead once and for all.” Sherlock shared a pointed deducing look with Mycroft and then looked to Molly. Interesting.

“Well John and I will be off now. John has had enough excitement for one day as have I, come along John.” Sherlock looked to Molly and Mycroft and back to Lestrade and stormed off, John did the same wondering what Sherlock noticed but was too tired to bother and followed his best friend. Molly and Mycroft found themselves alone again.

“I would like to ask you to dinner this evening, to celebrate. If that is agreeable to you. I know you’ve seen a lot of myself in the past few days.” Mycroft looked down to his shoes and umbrella tip. Molly thought nothing quite so touching to her as a bashful Mycroft Holmes. But she would have to let him down.

“I would but I… um… already have plans, with Greg.” Molly watched the man’s shoulders sag in resignation.

“So it is the Yarder, then?” Mycroft indicated pointing the umbrella in Lestrade’s general direction.

“Once disappointing encounter with a member of the Holmes family is enough to last me a lifetime. I would just be a pet goldfish to you Mycroft. With Greg, I can be me.” Molly explained. Mycroft nodded in complete understanding. How true, and just like Molly to notice it.

“Go then, I shan’t keep you.” Mycroft let her go just as Lestrade called out for her.

Molly turned back to wave goodbye and went to Lestrade. The British Government watched as Lestrade claimed Molly by kissing her in front of everyone. Then he watched them leave in Lestrade’s car.

“Ugh what happened?” Teddy questioned sitting up in a daze.

“Everything.” Mycroft grumbled to the bodyguard. He had hired the man for a reason.

“I’m sorry sir.” Teddy looked properly remorseful for not being more alert. “Is she alright?” He questioned looking to Mycroft, concerned over Molly’s safety.

“She escaped with minor wounds and the target was dispatched with, that’s all you need to know.” Mycroft finished walking off towards the town car. Teddy watched as he got in without word to his assistant. The girl he was protecting must have chosen the man she had been talking about the entire time she was in the hotel room. He felt sorry for his boss, but glad Molly would live.

\---

Later Molly laid on her couch curled up in the warm embrace of Greg’s arms. Her injured arm was currently held hostage under the man’s touch as he kissed all over the cast. She giggled pulling her hand away when he started to nibble at her fingertips. Lestrade’s laughter rumbled underneath where her head was laying. They had both decided they preferred a pub to a romantic restaurant, the proper date would come at another time, and had dinner before heading back to Molly’s flat where they were currently snuggled together. Both were worn out from the day, but neither could relax enough to find sleep.

Toby had found himself pleased to once again be home, but eyed this new man in the house wearily. His familiar had never been so comfortable with a male like this other than himself. He didn’t like it. He could tell his role would be replaced in short order. He eyed his familiar with the thought of traitor in his head, but she didn’t really notice while this new male was in the process of leaving his scent all over her.

“Hey I was busy with those fingers.” Lestrade chuckled, holding Molly closer. He shifted about so that he could make good use of her neck, nipping along the dainty column. He decided that if he couldn’t have his fill of her fingers, he would move onto tastier bits.

“What are you doing, Greg?” Molly questioned in protest. His dalliances around her neck had knocked her head from its comfortable pillow of his chest.

“Working on dessert.” Greg growled into her skin, sending shivers down her spine. She slid off of him and went to stand up. He questioned her by pulling on her good wrist to get her to settle back down with him, but she resisted. She rose, taking the beers that they had left of the coffee table with her. She eyed him over her shoulder and Greg’s eyebrows shot up in realization.

“If you wanted dessert, you should have said something.” Molly walked down the hallway that lead to her bedroom, and Lestrade rose from the couch to follow her. They would be glad they were alive and together that night. Molly was safe, Lestrade made love to her and held her in his arms as he watched her sleep, comforting her when her brow knitted with bad dreams. The solidity of her in his arms grounded him and soothed away the fears that he had of losing her. He chased away her bad dreams as she slept and did so earlier that day as he killed Moriarty. He’d kill a thousand men to keep Molly safe, and would do so to chase away the nightmares that would mar her brow. As Lestrade fell sleep beside Molly he could rest easy, he finally had his Molls.

**Author's Note:**

> That's all for this one shot, I hope you liked it. What I thought was going to be like 10 pages ended up being thirty!!! I don't know how I do that, it just happens. It also was a little bit darker than I'm used to but no less fun to write, especially that bit at the end with Lestrade and his Molls. heh... But you all know I'm a sucker for Mollestrade, well lets be honest, I'd be up for anything involving Lestrade (*cough*andRupertGraves*cough*) although I am intrigued by the idea of Mollcroft. I wouldn't say no, lemme put it that way!!! 
> 
> Let me know what you all think!!! I'm dying to know...
> 
> Comments and Kudos are not necessary but really you should most definitely feed them to the writers who are most definitely hungry in their cages. Believe me. I'm a writer. We won't fling poop at you so much as quote Shakespeare rudely in your general direction and gesticulate as we talk to our characters like we're schizophrenics, but we're not, we're a socially accepted form of schizophrenics that are labeled writers.


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